


Rabbit at the campfire

by fichuntie



Category: Mindgames by Jasmine Gold (book)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Whipping, Master/Slave, Multi, Rabbits, Slave Trade, Slavery, Training, problematic TM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fichuntie/pseuds/fichuntie
Summary: A character study examining a different young slave's perspective on the whipping of Vancea and the rabbit at the campfire that Mariah remembers.**“I tell you this so you might one day be of use to your master’s household,” he told Tulip, a young girl slave. This thought made her smile, but she tucked her head down towards the dirt so her pride wouldn’t embarrass her. She might one day be like the perfectly round trimmed bushes she saw near the mansion: grown and trained to please her master.
Kudos: 6





	Rabbit at the campfire

Tulip did not love the fields. She knew this was a flaw. She should love the fields of corn and grain because these plants served the masters, just as she did. But she could not bring herself to love the waves of golden grain. Instead, she loved the weeds, wild clover and lady’s lace that grew up between them. All green and scraggly, she pet the soft leaves in spring. The older slaves always chose her to pick the weeds. She pulled them up with all the strength in her arms, which were thickening and growing, so that the roots were pulled up. She wrapped these pulled plants in thin gauze and brought them back to the slave quarters she shared with the other youth. Weeds didn’t know that they disobeyed the master, unaware of their disobedience. In the solitary window of the girls’ quarters, the weeds grew in clay pots. One of the elder slaves who watched over them allocated her a small square of dirt to plant some of the weeds, pointing to which could be ground into poultices or added to food. 

“I tell you this so you might one day be of use to your master’s household,” he told her. This thought made her smile, but she tucked her head down towards the dirt so her pride wouldn’t embarrass her. The promise of praise was buoyant in her, making her ears warm and fingers tingle. She might one day be like the perfectly round trimmed bushes she saw near the mansion: grown and trained to please her master. 

Tulip also knew she was flawed because she was not like the other young slaves. Her shape changing, becoming fully formed to match the older girls. But her company was not. She was quiet, always on the edge of the group. She envied Mariah who was so well liked by the others. While Tulip sat at the edge of the fire, Mariah would lean her head on Samson or one of the girls. She envied Tara who giggled with the girls as they plucked corn. Tulip quietly did her work. She was never quite alone, but never quite friendly either. She enjoyed when Master Timon overlooked their crops, looking down on his property from a great big horse, but she could not bring herself to enjoy the raucous talk of the other slaves.

**

Tulip stood stock still as she watched the whipping of Vancea. She could not imagine good and easy work, the praise of such a kind mistress, or seeing a river. Such labor was sun-warm dirt with worms and leaves in it, too nutrient for her young roots. She shuddered to think of disappointing such a tall and proud mistress, who kissed so tenderly. The mistress’ lips were so pink. Those lips might be the last softness Vancea knew, but Tulip would never risk losing them. She trembled to think of a punishment that went on and on, with no end or forgiveness. Each scream of Vancea struck into her core. For once she did not envy Mariah for tending to the whipped slave. Tulip touched her face as they were dismissed. Wet cheeks: she had cried. 

That night, Vancea’s screams haunted Tulip. She sobbed into her small cot, barely knowing the cause. Pain was familiar to her. She’d been whipped and slapped before, tumbled into the dirt at the force of a master’s blow due to her incompetence. Remembering her punishments brought shame blushing to her face. But remembering Vancea’s punishment hurt in a deeper way that curdled in her stomach and lasted longer. The cracking sound of the whip, the disappointed tone of the humans’ voices, the pathetic whimpers of the disappointment. 

Tulip swore to herself she would deserve her mistress’ love. 

A few cots down, Mariah made her own silent promises. 

**

Samson had caught a rabbit. The little rabbit was gray, soft fur and widely blinking eyes. Tulip knew rabbits ate the crops so were bad, but also kept some weeds down so they wouldn’t choke the master’s crops. So rabbits were not entirely bad. Like weeds. She even braved going to the center of the fire so she could pet it.

“You can’t hold it. You’ll drop it,” Samson hissed. His fingers looked too tight on the rabbit. His tanned fingers burrowed into the fur with indents in the flesh. 

“I just want to pet it,” she said. She could see the way the animal’s ribs rose and fell with each breath. Samson’s tight hold kept the chest from rising fully. She wanted to feel the fur, know if it was a soft as the gray fluffy dandelion seedlings it looked like. 

“Fine,” Samson said.

It was. It was that soft. 

Still rubbing her fingers together, she retreated to the far side of the fire. The fire cracked loudly. The boys moved the rabbit towards the fire. It made a high pitched squeak, kicking its back legs. Tulip flinched. 

Mariah woke up. Samson’s fingers tightened on the rabbit. 

“Stop it,” Mariah hissed, horrified.

“It’s my rabbit,” he said. “I snared it.” And he lowered the rabbit towards the fire again. The animal wriggled, kicking its feet, but Samson’s grip was tight.

“Let it go!” Mariah ordered.

Tulip saw something terrible in the boys’ eyes. Karl and Samson had the glint in their eye of humans. It wasn’t Mariah who acted human, but them. She’d seen this look in master Timon when he overlooked the beating of smaller younger slave children. In these slaves, it revolted her. The boys were usurping the right of punishment, which slaves were only worthy of receiving not dispensing. She shuddered. It was like watching a vine choke out a healthy tree, stealing and grasping beyond its place. She could not watch; she didn’t know what to do. She had no instructions for such a situation. To Tulip, it was unthinkable for a slave to act this masterful way. The squeaks of the rabbit were high and pained. 

Mariah was braver than her and ran forward. Mariah would save the rabbit, the same way she comforted Vancea. Mariah was a better slave than Tulip so it would be fine. 

Tulip scooted backwards out of the light of the fire. Far enough away, she sprinted off into the darkness. She hoped no other youth would notice, but then her cohort rarely noticed her. She ran towards master Timon’s cabin, but a yard away stopped. She couldn’t shame her cohort with this attention. Nor could she be a snitch, the worst least praiseworthy kind of slave. She veered towards the night guard and adult slaves’ quarters. She knocked on the door of one of the grown slaves.

“Ugh. What is it?” Talon asked.

“I’m sorry to wake you. It’s just the boys…” She couldn’t name them. “Some boys are acting like humans, punishing a rabbit and maybe Mariah. That’s not a slave’s place, to punish.” She drew off into whispers at the end so that she wouldn’t cry in front of the adult. He might only be a slave, but she would be good for him. 

“Hmm,” Talon said. He looked down at her with her dried tear tracks. “You were a good girl to bring this to me and not the master. He doesn’t like to be woken, might’ve whipped you just for that. I will bring this to him in the morning.”

She nodded, grateful. The master would know what to do, how to correct the boys away from such impudent pain giving. From the dirt, her heart rose at the praise. She was good. She was reassured.

“I would have thought that the whipping would set the cohort on the right course. I suppose the boys might be pain-wringers. The training will determine…” Talon’s voice faded off as he gazed off into the night. She knew his eyes were toward the mansion, even if she couldn’t see it in the dark night. 

Talon’s attention returned to her. He rustled her hair.

“Go back to the girl quarters. Do not speak of this,” he said.

She nodded. She let her head scrape the floor even though he was just a slave. She was so grateful. Talon and master Timon would resolve this, as their betters. 

When she returned, she stayed at the edge of the fire. She squinted, peering at every area. The rabbit was gone. Some tight knot in her chest loosened. Mariah had helped the rabbit. The boys were not tormenting it with punishment. So, she slunk away, back to her cot.


End file.
